


Rice to Meat You

by sorexx



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: EVERYONE - Freeform, M/M, MasterChef AU, Slow Burn, allura is gordon ramsay, but also i would just like to announce that, cooking show au, coran is christina tosi which means he's the most dramatic person ever, literally everyone is a chef, pining lance except he doesn't know it yet, texan keith, they/them pronouns for Pidge, yes i promise that's in the fic, zac efron is hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorexx/pseuds/sorexx
Summary: Competition: Voltron is the newest, most legendary cooking competition in the world. The first season's ratings were higher than any other show on the Food Network, raising the bar for every competition on air. The unprecedented popularity has brought a new, shining spotlight of fame upon the three judges, all recognizable pre-broadcast, and completely celebrity after the show aired. It features Allura Altea, daughter of the famous chef Alfor Altea; Coran Kreitis, previous partner of Altea; and, returning for a second season not as a competitor, but as a judge, Takashi Shirogane, the first-season victor of the competition.This season will feature twenty new home chefs and personalities, new alliances, crazy sabotage, and, of course, amazing dishes ready for you, the audience, to feast your eyes upon. The first episode of the second season premieres on Friday, December 29th, 2017. Tune in to meet your competitors.**New episode every Friday.





	Rice to Meat You

**Author's Note:**

> i love cooking shows and competitions and i thought !!! MADDY WHY DONT U MAKE A KLANCE MASTERCHEF AU EXCEPT IT ISN'T!!!! BC U TOTALLY DON'T ALREADY HAVE SO MANY OTHER THINGS TO WRITE!!!! so here it is  
> also FUCK, GUYS, i didnt have another competitor so i made one up LMFAO YALL WILL SEE
> 
> also, my title? Shameless

"I grew up in Cuba. Varadero," says Lance, clasping his hands together in his lap. He shifts in his seat. The denim jeans he wears are tight, almost too tight for comfort, especially for someone who rarely wears jeans. In retrospect, he doesn't know why he decided to wear jeans in the first place. Shorts are much comfier. These might actually be the only pair of jeans he packed. Lance doesn't know if that is going to turn around and bite him on the ass. 

The cameraman nods for him to continue. Lance starts, joining reality again, snapped out of the clothing trance he was in. Right, the cameras - camera, really, there is only one right now, trained directly on him for his interview - are rolling, meaning he has to get in character. He flashes a stunning smile (of course, because what else is he going to flash? This is family television!) and keeps speaking. 

"I moved to Nevada when I was accepted into the Galaxy Garrison Academy to be a pilot. I've always wanted to be a pilot. It's my dream. Cooking is my passion. When I was younger, I helped my mama and abuela in the kitchen all the time. They've taught me everything I know; how to make anything, secrets of the trade, do's and don't's. They're my heroes of the kitchen." He smiles, gaze distant. He misses them  _so much._ He hasn't seen them since he left Cuba almost two years ago. He hopes they'll be watching this when it airs. He can almost see his mama tear up, wipe at her eyes, almost hear the quiet murmurs from his abuela as she holds her hands to her heart. Lance shakes his head to rid himself of the image. He can't tear up like this, not for the first episode. Lance clears his throat. "Whatever I do during my time here is dedicated to them. All my perfections and mistakes. They go out to my family in Cuba." 

The man behind the camera raises his brows. "Perfections  _and_ mistakes? You're willing to dedicate your mess-ups to your family?" 

Lance nods. "Of course. They're the ones who taught me it's okay to make mistakes. Mistakes are a part of life. If you don't make mistakes, you aren't really human, are you?" 

The other man hums in agreement, nodding a bit. "And if you win, what will you do with the quarter-million dollars?" 

Lance's response is immediate. "If I win, I'll use the money to fly to Varadero to see my family. I'll get them whatever they need or want. With the remaining money, I'll use it to pay off my school. The Garrison is really, really expensive," he laughs a bit at the end. No jab to the Garrison - it's his dream school - but he isn't wrong. The tuition is mind-blowing. 

He nods again. "Thank you. Please introduce yourself one more time, and then you're good to go." 

Lance smiles one more time, aiming to dazzle. He looks directly into the camera. "My name is Lance McClain, I'm nineteen years old from Nevada, and I'm going to win Competition: Voltron." 

The cameraman holds up a finger for a moment longer. He messes with the camera during the moment before coming around to the front of it. Lance rises to his feet and takes the man's outstretched hand. His grip is firm and just; the man lets go and claps. "Alright, Lance. Your interview is over. You're going to go through that door, down the hallway, and enter the room at the end. There, you will be with the nineteen other competitors. You will get your room assignments handed to you, and then you and the others will be bused to the Voltron Mansion. Are you ready?" 

Lance swallows. He takes a deep breath. After this, there is no going back. After this, he will be cut off from the real world for months, focusing only on one thing: cooking. Whether or not he'll make it, he's prepared to go down fighting. 

"Hell yeah," Lance confirms. "I'm ready to win this thing!" 

***

The hallway isn't that long, but it seems to go on forever. It's completely silent void his footsteps, which echo off the tile and bounce back into his ears. The quietness is deafening and anxiety-inducing. Apprehension twists in Lance's gut. Despite telling the man (and himself) that he's ready, deep, deep in his brain, he's unsure. The fraction part of him that is sure to unsure is small - maybe one twentieth of him is unsure, but there are twenty competitors, nineteen others who could make or break his victory. The fraction is the same, or could be. 

Then again, Lance has never been extremely good at math. He could be fooling himself. 

Finally, after a million years of walking down Hallway of Thoughts, Lance reaches the door. It's the light at the end of the tunnel. He feels his heart sinking to the floor. This is the last chance. He could turn back now. 

Lance shakes his head. Why would he? Yeah, right! Turn back and destroy everything he's worked towards, maybe. Lance McClain has never given up before. He doesn't plan to now. 

Lance shoves the uncertain thoughts away and into a dusty corner where they belong. His hand grips the cool metal of the doorknob. It's shaking as it turns. He's shaking as he pushes it open. 

Eighteen other heads turn to inspect him at his entry. There are twenty chairs around the room, pushed against the wall like a frame. It leaves the middle of the room empty save for a tiled logo of a large C:V in the center. An official-looking man raises his hand and points to one of the two vacant chairs. Lance sits down next to a bigger guy whose hair is pulled out of his face by an orange sweatband. He's anxiously wringing his hands. Next to him is a tiny, androgynous person (who looks strangely familiar...) with wire rimmed glasses and a mop of light brown hair. They examine him critically. It almost makes Lance uncomfortable, the way they're reading him like the easiest book in the world. He's glad to be next to the big, anxious guy. 

Lance shoots him a wide smile. "Hey," he says, offering his hand. "Lance McClain, at your service." 

The other guy looks at his hand for a second before taking it, obviously hesitant. "Hunk Garrett," he replies. "Nice to meet you, Lance." 

"You, too, buddy!" Lance motions to the rest of them in the room. "They all seem like a... fun crowd," he offers. On the contrary, everyone aside from him and Hunk are silent. They aren't speaking loud enough to draw attention, with the exception of the small one next to Hunk, of course.

Hunk shrugs helplessly. "I guess they're all nervous. I know I am," he sighs. Then his eyes widen. Hunk turns to Lance, panic across his face. "I didn't mean to, like, seem weak or anything-" 

"Hunk, pal, relax," Lance pats him on the arm. "Everyone's nervous. Besides, I don't care about this 'weakness' crap. I'm not here to judge anyone. That's the judges' job." He leans back and crosses his legs. "I plan on cruising through this competition. With my skill, I can easily make it to top five, at  _least._ What about you?" 

Hunk messes with the hem of his shirt. "I mean, I love cooking." 

"Duh, that's why you're here." 

"Well, yeah. Competitions aren't really my forte, but my moms signed me up for it. They have a lot of faith in me," he sighs. "I'm doing this for them. I don't care about the prize money or the title." 

Lance nods, impressed. "That's really cool of you, Hunk. I'm sure you'll make them proud." 

Hunk smiles. "Thanks, Lance." 

Lance opens his mouth to say something else before he's cut off by another voice. "Being humble is the right way to go. If you're conceited, you're getting nowhere." The androgynous one leans forward so they can look past Hunk. They glare at Lance over the top of their glasses. "I wouldn't be too confident if I were you." 

Lance's eyes narrow. "And who are  _you?"_

The gremlin narrows their eyes, too. "Pidge Gunderson," they retort. "Who are  _you?"_

"Lance McClain." 

They stick their nose into the air. "I've never heard of you." 

Lance gapes. "I've never heard of you, either!" Though, he can't place a finger on it, but he's definitely seen them before.  _Definitely._

Pidge nods. "I know. How  _would_ you know who I am?" 

"I don't know!" 

"Guys," Hunk says quietly. "Please don't argue." 

Lance huffs. He crosses his arms. "Pidge started it." 

A smirk spreads across Pidge's face. "Yeah, I did." After a second comes a, "Nice to meet you, Lance." 

The sudden change of mood is making Lance's head ache. He rolls his eyes. "You, too, I guess. Even though you practically insulted me." 

Pidge shrugs. "What else am I going to do? I'm  _so bored._ I don't have my phone. I can't check Twitter.  _What am I going to do without Twitter?"_

Lance groans. "Tell me about it! I had to get my sister to keep my Snapchat streaks for me! I'll be surprised if I have a single one left when I get back to my phone." 

"Oh, what's your Snapchat?" 

"I can't add you right now, we don't have our phones." 

"You're very right," Pidge returns behind Hunk, who watched the whole thing with a puzzled expression. Pidge doesn't come back out, so Lance lets himself relax. 

Until  _he_ walks in. 

Almost immediately, Lance dislikes him. There's something about him that just  _irks_ Lance. Maybe it's the way he walks. Maybe it's his cold, amazingly violet eyes. Maybe it's the mullet. 

No, no, it's  _definitely_ the mullet. 

He sits down in the only empty seat, which, of course, happens to be next to Lance. Lance watches him enter the room, scan it, and snap to the seat. He watches him as he approaches the seat. He watches him as he sits down in the seat. He watches him turn only his head to look Lance up and down, raise a single brow, and deadpan, "Why are you watching me." He doesn't even phrase it as a question. He just says it as a  _comment._

Something boils in Lance's gut. He narrows his eyes. "I'm not watching you." 

The guy raises the other brow, too. "Yeah, you kind of are." 

"Actually, I'm kind of  _not._ " Lance stares straight ahead of him. "I have no interest in you." 

"Um, okay," comes the reply. His voice is deeper than Lance imagined when he first saw him, but after hearing it, it kind of fits him. The mullet doesn't, though. Mullets don't fit anybody except Billy Ray Cyrus, and even then, it was a reach. 

The official-looking man who directed Lance to his seat kicks off the wall and strolls to the middle of the room. "Alright, chefs," he drawls, sounding bored. "I'll read your room assignments. Then you'll load onto the bus outside, which will take you to the Voltron Mansion, where you all will be staying during your time here in the competition. New people will be waiting on the bus and at the mansion to direct you on what to do next." He clears his throat and looks down at his clipboard. "We've grouped you four to a room. The first room will be Lance McClain, Pidge Gunderson, Hunk Garrett, and Keith Kogane. The next..." 

Lance tunes out once he hears his assignment. He looks over at Hunk and Pidge, who is leaning forward again. "Hey! They put us in the same room! I wonder who Keith is, though." 

A tap on his shoulder, and Lance turns around. He's face-to-face with Mullet Man. Mullet Man mumbles, "I'm Keith. I guess we're in the same room." He looks at Hunk and Pidge, ignoring Lance's dramatic gasp. "Nice to meet you guys. I'm Keith." 

"Pidge," Pidge offers their hand. Keith takes it, then moves to Hunk.

"I'm Hunk!" Hunk smiles. "Rice to meat you. Get it? It's a pun!" 

Pidge snorts, rolling their eyes. "Nice one." 

Keith cracks a small smile. "I get it." 

Lance looks between the three of them, mouth hanging open. He points to Keith, finger shaking. "Why are  _you_ rooming with us?!" 

Keith shrugs, leaning back. "I don't make the rules. They're probably grouping us by age. We seem to be the youngest ones here." He smirks, then, making Lance's cheeks heat up in what he accepts is anger. "And maybe they just want to see you suffer, Lance." 

Lance crosses his arms with a huff. "Well, I'm suffering, all right," he mutters darkly. 

Hunk pats his back. "Don't be angry, Lance, we'll all be good friends soon enough!" 

Lance wants to agree with him. He wants to be good friends with Hunk for sure. Pidge seems cool enough, though irritating at times. But Keith? Lance doesn't know why he rubs him the wrong way, but he has a bad feeling. 

He guesses he'll just have to see how it goes. 

***

They aren't kidding when they call it the "Voltron Mansion". As soon as the bus pulls into the circular driveway, everyone gasps, staring up at the gigantic building in amazement. It's crazy huge; three stories, with a huge fenced-in yard. Lance can see the edge of a swimming pool through the iron bars. Thank goodness he brought his swim trunks - then again, even if he didn't, he'd still find a way to swim in it. 

Hunk seems just as in awe as Lance is by the way his mouth is hanging open. He turns to Lance. "This place is huge." 

"I know, right?!" Lance exclaims in agreement. 

Hunk nods, diverting his gaze back to the window. 

The bus driver appears in the aisle, whistling to get everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone. Welcome to the Voltron Mansion. As you can see, nobody was exaggerating-" a few laughs emerge. "-Once you're inside, you're free to do anything you want. Find your rooms, practice cooking in the kitchen, take a dip in the pool. You're free until tomorrow, which is when your first challenge is. Later tonight, people will be coming around to tell you the itinerary and the rules, but until then, it's all you." 

The contestants form a line in the aisle of the bus to leave. As soon as Lance makes it into the mansion, he and Hunk wander around the hallways, marveling over how beautifully decorated it is, until they find the room with a paper that says "Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Keith" taped to the door. Lance pushes it open. 

Keith and Pidge are already inside. It's a large room with an ensuite and a huge window that looks out onto the backyard. Just as Lance thought, there's a beautiful pool glistening clear blue in the sunlight. He sees his luggage off to the side of the room and exhales in relief. There are two sets of bunks, one of either side of the room. Pidge has claimed the top bunk of one, and Keith has claimed the bottom of the other. Hunk sits down on the bottom bunk with Pidge, leaving Lance to the top bunk with Keith. 

Lance side-eyes Keith as he walks over to his bed and climbs up on it. Keith only shoots him another smirk from where he lies below him, knees bent. 

Lance can already tell it's going to be a long competition.

**Author's Note:**

> YALL!!! IM GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS!!!! my new year's resolution is to finish this. okay. so im actually gonna do it. mark my words


End file.
